Saudade
by meira90
Summary: In the aftermath of the war, Hermione is living the life she always wanted, but not with the person she had wanted to live it with. A story of love, loss, and longing.
1. Part I

**_Saudade_**_ [Galician-Portuguese]: a deep emotional state of nostalgic longing for an absent something or someone that one loves. It often carries a repressed knowledge that the object of longing might never return. It's related to the feelings of longing, yearning._

….o….o….o….

**Part I**

_June 1, 1999_

Hermione rolled over onto her side so that she was facing the sleeping form next to her. His deep, even breathing told her that he was still lost in slumber. He seemed to be having peaceful dreams, as there was a hint of a smile on his face. She smiled at that. _Lucky_, she thought to herself.

Her own dreams had been anything but peaceful. Nearly every night for the last thirteen months, Hermione's dreams had been filled with scenes from the torture she endured at Malfoy Manor and the death she witnessed at the Battle of Hogwarts and memories of _him_.

She shook her head, as if that could somehow clear her mind. She pushed thoughts of her dreams away and instead focused on what had occurred during the time she'd spent awake last night. She still wasn't sure how she felt about it.

After the war ended and everyone had gone back to trying to find and feel something _normal_, Ron had started pursuing Hermione. At first, she resisted, as she didn't want to damage their friendship. But Ron had been persistent, and finally she'd given in, though with much hesitation. She had no feelings beyond friendship for him, but had agreed to a date when she remembered what _he _had said to her a year ago:

_"Promise me something, Hermione," he'd said with a pleading look in his eyes. He'd taken her hand in both of his, and she gasped with the discovery that they were nearly ice cold. "Please."_

_She didn't hesitate with her reply. "Anything."_

_"Promise me you won't wait for me."_

_The tears that had been swimming in her eyes finally ran down her cheeks and she shook her head. She tried to say "no", but a small sob escaped her throat instead._

_"Promise me, Hermione!" His voice was filled with sorrow and desperation. "I want you to move on. I want you to be happy. Date some nice blokes, be spoiled, have a fancy wedding with a huge dress, have children…" _

_"No, no…" she cried into his chest, not sure if he could hear her words. She hoped he could hear her heart, and how it ached with every word he spoke._

_"There's no future with me. I'm going to be gone a long time, and what would people think if they knew you of all people were waiting for a man like me?" He sighed and pulled her even closer to him. She suspected it was to hide the fact that he, too, had tears running down his face. "If you truly love me, you will grant me this one last wish. Promise me…" he whispered it into her ear._

_It was a cruel move, and she knew she was trapped. She loved him so deeply that it hurt; she could not possibly deny him his last wish as a free man._

_She went limp in his arms in defeat. "I promise."_

Thus far, she was keeping her promise, however much it was secretly killing her inside. Her one date with Ron had turned into two dates then five; now, they'd been officially a couple for three months. They'd taken it slow, as they were still very present in the gossip sections of the Daily Prophet, and hadn't wanted any extra attention on their new and fragile relationship.

And then last night, Hermione had let Ron into her bed for the first time. Although Ron seemed to know what he was doing, it had still been clumsy and awkward. It hadn't been terrible, but it hadn't been fantastic, either. Hermione wondered how Ron felt about it, and if he had noticed she hadn't been a virgin.

Ron had been gentle with her, though perhaps a bit _too _gentle. Ron's kisses and touches had been nice; therein laid the problem. Pumpkin juice is _nice_. Going to Hogsmead is _nice_. Being intimate with her boyfriend should be a bit more than _nice_.

Of course, maybe she was being a bit unfair. It was hard for the tiny flame Hermione felt for Ron to be anything more than nice when she had once been consumed by fiendfyre for someone else, and even now, she could still feel heat in her bones and in her heart when she thought of _him_.

Ron snorted in his sleep. Another small smile graced Hermione's face, but this one was sad. He was cute and endearing, and didn't deserve her. She loved Ron; she just didn't love him as he loved her. She didn't love him as she loved another. And it would always be that way; always lingering in her heart, always a secret. Hermione was, and would always be, in love with Draco Malfoy.

….o….o….o….

_December 24, 1999_

Hermione's gloved hand was wrapped tightly in Ron's. He led her through the soft, sparkling snow to their destination: a small restaurant, nearly hidden in the snow banks and trees.

"I thought I'd choose some place nice and quiet, to balance out all the commotion we'll be dealing with tomorrow," Ron said, looking at her.

Christmas at the Burrow was always rowdy, but in a good way. Hermione smiled up at him, and at that moment, wished with all her heart that she was capable of falling madly in love with him. "It's perfect, Ron. I've never even heard of it. La Fenêtre… It looks quite nice and cozy."

And it did. A tiny little thing that looked like a countryside cottage, it looked warm and inviting in the white landscape. Candlelight cast a romantic glow from the front windows, and Hermione could already smell the cuisine cooking inside.

The moment they stepped inside, Hermione knew that this would be no ordinary dinner. Though it was small, it exuded simple elegance, and she knew Ron couldn't afford this place easily. It made her uncomfortable, and she grew increasingly so after they got seated and Ron requested their finest wine.

"I remembered that you said you really liked French food," Ron said with a shy smile. "I hope you like this place. It was a bit hard to find, honestly."

"Oh Ron, I love it already! It's both elegant and cozy, and it smells so _good_." She smiled back at him, though inside she was wilting. She'd acquired her taste for French food when she had been with Draco, since he always insisted on taking her to fancy restaurants in Muggle London, where no one would recognize either of them together.

_"Tu es si belle, mon amour. Vous tenez mon cœur, de tout mon coeur," he whispered into her ear as he cuddled up close to her in their booth._

_Hermione giggled as she pushed her bowl of blanquette de veau away and turned to face him. "It's so romantic when you speak French. Although, for all I know, you could be making comments about how much of a pig I am after eating all of that."_

_Draco kissed her cheek. "I take it you liked the food, then?" He smirked._

_She laughed and lightly swatted his arm. "Yes, although I still think some of the menu items sound rather frightening, I think I could get used to this French cuisine you love so much."_

_"Good, because I fully intend on bringing the woman I love to all my favorite restaurants. Combining two loves into one delicious combination." He waggled his eyebrows at her._

_She laughed again. "Well sir, perhaps if you're good, you'll even get dessert."_

Their secret escapades to Muggle London stopped after Draco fixed the Vanishing Cabinet. Everything they had together changed after that night…

"Hermione?" Ron was looking at her intently.

She blushed. "Oh, sorry. I just couldn't decide what to order! Everything just looks so good."

"It's alright, I just wanted to make sure I had your attention. I, um, got you an early Christmas gift and I really hope you'll accept it…"

Hermione held her breath. She knew what was coming, and her heart froze.

Ron took out a small box with a little golden bow out from his jacket. "I know we haven't been together very long, but we've known each other so long, and I love you, and I just _know _you're the one for me." He opened up the box – Pandora's box. Once he opened it, everything in her world would change. "Hermione Granger, will you marry me?"

Hermione took one shaky breath. The diamond ring in the box seemed to be staring at her. She stared back. She took a second shaky breath. She slowly raised her eyes from the ring to the eager eyes looking at her from across the table. She felt a stab of pain, and then another one of shame, when she realized they were a clear blue, instead of a misty grey.

_Promise me…_

"Yes."

….o….o….o….

_June 5, 2000_

Hermione hadn't had any part in planning her own wedding. As soon as she and Ron had announced their engagement at the Burrow last Christmas, Molly had immediately taken over and planned everything, from the flowers to the guest list to the date.

_The date._

Ginny was helping Hermione put her veil on when she realized the cruel irony: she was getting married to Ron on Draco's birthday. She'd started crying, but luckily, Ginny just mistook her tears to be pre-wedding jitters.

When she walked down the aisle, arm linked with her father's, she felt like she was having an out of body experience. Nothing seemed real. It _couldn't _be real. This wasn't supposed to be how it all happened. She was supposed to be blissfully ecstatic on her wedding day; but she only felt like a shell of herself. The smile on her face as she approached the groom, _her _groom, was one of bravery, not one of unwavering love. As she stepped up in front of the altar to face Ron, she wondered when the guilt eating at her would finally go away; _if _it would ever go away.

As the two said their vows in front of the huge crowd of witches, wizards, and muggles who had come out to see the unity of two war heroes, all Hermione could think of was how much she hated making promises.


	2. Part II

**Part II**

_May 2, 2003_

With a swish of her wand, Hermione had her lit candle rising in the air to join the others that were floating up, heading out above the Great Lake. She stood on the shore with a solemn crowd, silently watching the lights flicker above the water in the cool spring air.

Ministry officials, alumni of Hogwarts, and families of the fallen had gathered around for the five year memorial service. Hermione could hardly believe five years had already passed. Sometimes, it felt like it was only yesterday that she had been surrounded by death and destruction in the school she loved so much. Other times, it felt like a million lifetimes ago, the last time she'd seen Draco out as a free man…

Silent tears ran down her face. Ron took her hand in his and squeezed gently. This only made her cry harder. On her other side, Harry put his hand on her shoulder. Without looking, Hermione knew that both of them had tears on their faces, too.

Before they'd all sent their candles in the air, Minister of Magic Shacklebolt had made a beautiful speech in honor of those who lost their lives in the battle.

"And now, light your candles," Shacklebolt said in closing, "This reminds us that those who leave us are never gone, for their memories, like little, flickering flames, will live in our hearts forever."

Hermione knew Harry and Ron were thinking of Fred and Tonks and Lupin and others who had perished. Hermione, however, whispered into the wind, "Not everyone we lose, we lose to death."

She looked up at her candle, floating high above her, and knew Shacklebolt was right. The memory of who she'd lost would never stop burning in her heart. He'd always be there.

….o….o….o….

_September 26, 2005_

Hermione paced up and down the short length of the master bedroom. Every so often, she would catch herself biting down on her lip, and made herself stop. If she didn't, her lip would look like a massacred mess by the end of the afternoon. _Up, down, up, down_, she paced.

She glanced at her watch. One more minute until she could go back into the bathroom. Thirty more minutes until Ron came home. "It's alright, just breathe, Hermione, breathe," she told herself aloud. She couldn't stop wringing her hands together, and finally just sat down on the bed. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been this nervous.

Finally, it was time. She slowly stood up, and took in a deep breath. She walked over to the master bathroom, and looked over at the counter. On it sat two pregnancy tests; one was magical and the other was muggle. She slowly crept up on them, as if they might fly off if she came up too fast and startled them. She finally looked down at them.

Two little crosses, one on each test.

Hermione's hand flew to her mouth. She was pregnant. A small sob escaped her lips, and in that moment, she didn't know if it was a sob of relief, happiness, or despair.

….o….o….o….

_September 27, 2005_

"What's going on, love?" Ron asked Hermione as he came up to her and started rubbing her back. Hermione had been acting strange and distant since yesterday, and he wanted to know what was wrong.

Hermione finished rinsing the dish she had in her hands, and set it down on the dish towel laying on the kitchen counter. Her brow furrowed, as if she either wasn't sure of the answer, or knew the answer and didn't know how to articulate it to her husband. She turned to face Ron.

"Yesterday…" she started, swallowing the lump in her throat. "Yesterday, I found out something rather important."

"Yes?"

"I'm… Well, I'm pregnant," she finally admitted, slowly looking up to meet Ron's wide and bewildered eyes.

Ron's jaw dropped, then rose several times, as he tried to formulate words, though no sound came out. Finally, after a minute of looking like a guppy out of water, a huge grin erupted on Ron's face.

"I'm going to be a dad!" He yelled triumphantly. "We're having a baby! _We're going to be parents_!" He could no longer contain his excitement, and he grabbed her in a tight embrace, and twirled around the kitchen. "We have to tell mum! And Harry and Ginny! And everyone else!" He ran off, still smiling, to either write letters or grab some floo powder.

Hermione remained alone in the kitchen, the smile she'd forced upon her face slowly melting away. Was the guilt she felt over everything in her life ever going to fade away?

….o….o….o….

_May 16, 2006_

Hermione wailed into the sterile, hospital air. Tears dripped out from behind her lids as the pain became more and more unbearable.

"Push, Hermione, push!" the midwife told her.

"Almost there, love! Just keep pushing!" Ron said, trying to encourage her. He would have been a bit more convincing if only he didn't look so deathly pale and scared as he held onto Hermione's hand.

"I can't!" Hermione cried. "I can't do this!" She was so exhausted and in so much pain. Tears continued streaming out of her eyes as she forced herself to push once again.

"Just one more push and you'll be parents!" the midwife yelled out from between Hermione's legs.

Hermione gritted her teeth to keep herself from screaming as she gave one last, mighty push. A cry filled the room, and Hermione laid back against the fluffed up pillows. She looked up at Ron, and then they both looked over at the midwife, who was cleaning up the tiniest human Hermione had ever seen.

"Congratulations," the midwife said as she handed Hermione a bundle of blankets. "You have a beautiful, healthy, and perfect baby girl."

"I have a daughter," Ron said, in awe. He kissed the top of Hermione's head, and then the baby's. "She has my hair," he noticed with a grin.

The midwife brought a birth certificate up to the happy set of new parents, and whipped out a quill. "What are you naming her?"

Ron looked at Hermione for a moment, and she nodded at him. "Rose…Rose Eleanor Weasley."

The midwife filled out the certificate, and then let the couple have some privacy.

"I like the name you picked out," Hermione said with a smile. "A nice touch, naming her after my mum. And Rose…it's pretty."

Ron smiled back at her. "She's our little Rose…our little red rose."

After she finished nursing Rose, Hermione fell asleep right away, exhausted from giving birth. But she did not feel at all rested after she woke, for all night, she'd dreamt of roses; bouquets of red roses that slowly faded to white.


	3. Part III

**Part III**

_May 15, 2007_

Hermione was in super-clean mode. Tomorrow would be Rose's first birthday party, and she and Ron had decided to turn it into a major event. There were nearly sixty people on the guest list; people from Hogwarts, people from work, and of course, family. Hermione had spent the better part of the past week organizing, scrubbing, sweeping, and mopping.

_Might as well finish the spring clean-up project I have going on and finally organize our closet, _Hermione thought with a sigh. In the six years they'd been married, neither Ron nor Hermione had attempted to clean up the walk-in closet they shared. And now, with Ron still at work and Rose taking a nap, was the perfect time to do it.

Hermione dusted, re-folded clothes, hung up jumpers that'd been thrown into the corners, organized their shoes, and took out the laundry. In the back top corner of the closet, she discovered a few worn-out looking boxes. She took out her wand and brought the boxes down so she could examine their contents.

In the first box, she rediscovered some old parchments from her years at Hogwarts. She smiled fondly as she reviewed some of her notes from charms and potions, but quickly placed them back in the box and out of sight when she discovered a note in the margins of her arithmancy notes in that familiar, curled handwriting. _Meet me by the kitchens at 9? – D. _

Hermione took in a deep breath as she struggled to calm herself. She remembered that day. Draco had surprised her with chocolate covered strawberries down in the kitchens, which they later fed to each other in one of the abandoned corridors. That was the first time they had –

"Stop it!" Hermione reprimanded herself aloud. A trip down memory lane wasn't going to do her any good. She continued to the second box.

Inside that box were various trinkets belonging to both her and Ron. A few wizard chess pieces (some broken and some intact), a few chocolate frog cards, one of Crookshank's old toys, various quills, and a few other miscellaneous items were strewn about inside. She put the lid back on it and set it aside.

The third and final box was the smallest. While the previous two had been familiar to Hermione, she did not recall ever seeing this one before. _Must be Ron's, _she thought to herself. She opened it up.

The only things inside this box were two photographs and what appeared to be several letters and a card. Hermione picked up and inspected the two pictures.

The first one was a picture of Lavender Brown, in sixth year. She was outside, on the Hogwarts grounds, and the sunlight was streaming down on her hair in a way that made it shine. She was looking directly at whoever was taking the pictures, and laughing. She looked radiant.

The second photo was one of Lavender and Ron together. They were cuddled up together on one of the couches in the Gryffindor common room, not looking at the camera at all. Hermione smiled as the picture-Ron leaned over and tenderly kissed picture-Lavender's cheek. They looked so happy.

Hermione couldn't help but notice that the edges of the photographs were worn and faded, as if someone had spent a lot of time holding them in their fingers.

She put the photographs back in the box and picked up the card. Her smile faded as she read it. The card was the announcement for Lavender's funeral, which wasn't until two weeks after the battle. She placed the card back in the box, and didn't try to read the letters. Hermione knew what they were; letters from Lavender to Ron. They were private.

As Hermione put the boxes back up on the shelf, she saw that while the first two needed dusting, the third did not. Someone had kept it clean. Someone was opening it regularly.

Hermione sat back down on the floor of the closet. A few tears slid down her cheeks as she realized that she was not the only one harboring feelings for a lost lover.

….o….o….o….

_January 3, 2008_

Hermione stirred her tea with one hand, and patted her belly with the other. Soon it would no longer be flat; she had just learned over the Christmas holidays that she and Ron were going to be having their second child. Ron said he didn't care, but Hermione knew he was hoping for a boy this time. Rose was great, but girls were a handful.

A tapping at the window broke through her reverie. A small brown owl had arrived with The Daily Prophet. Hermione handed him his knuts and snack, and unfolded the paper as she walked back to the table.

The headline made her drop her cup of tea, and it splattered across the floor.

_After 10 Years in Azkaban's Solitary Confinement, Draco Malfoy has been Moved to Medium Security, _it read. A decade-old photo of him leaving the Wizengamot accompanied the article.

She went to the table and slowly, carefully sat down in her seat. Draco's move changed things for Hermione. She still wouldn't be allowed to visit him (only a spouse or blood-relative could visit a medium security prisoner), but now, he would be allowed to send and receive letters. She could write to Draco. He could write to her.

But _should _she write to him? She bit her lip. Would he really want to hear about her life with Ron? Would it hurt him? Would it be cheating, if she did write to Draco? What if Ron found out? Would hearing back from Draco make her happy or make her feel worse?

That was how Ron found Hermione a couple hours later, after he came back from the Ministry. She still sat at the table, clutching the newspaper, with a distant look in her eyes. A broken teacup and its contents lay cold and forgotten on the floor. Ron looked at her, then glanced at the newspaper and read the headline. He didn't say a word to her; he just took her hand and led her to their bed and tucked her in with a light kiss to her forehead.

When Hermione awoke the next morning, the mess on the floor was gone, as was the newspaper. But, on her desk, in the library, sat a new quill, bottle of ink, and fresh parchment.

….o….o….o….

_Dear Draco,_

_How have you been?_

__She crossed it out. Obviously, he hadn't been doing well. He was in prison.

_My love,_

_I've really missed you. I can't believe it's been ten years._

__She crossed that out as well. It sounded too...unlike herself.

_Darling,_

_I really –_

__She really didn't even know where she was going with that. She just needed to keep it simple.

_Draco,_

_I've kept my promise._

_Love,_

_H_

….o….o….o….


End file.
